His to Hold (Regency Scoundrels Book 1) (11 page)

Mallory could not believe the heart-wrenching scene that played out before him. She was alive and well! He stared belligerently at the man that had caught Elizabeth, and swung across to the ship. Jumping down onto the deck, he held his arms out for her.

“Hand her over, old man,” he whispered, lacing his voice with just the right amount of danger. In his experience, people always bowed down to the tone of voice that he currently employed.

“You, sir, may go straight to hell. Bess isn’t going anywhere.”

Mallory was taken aback by the man’s nerve and impudence. Shots rang out around him, though Ethan seemed to be covering his hide rather well. He doubted that anyone on board this man’s ship would try to crack a shot at him anyhow. They’d be too afraid of hitting their captain.

“Obviously, you did not hear what Elizabeth uttered before she collapsed. She knows me. She belongs to me. So be a good chap, and hand her over to me,” he encouraged, holding his arms out again. He didn’t want to hurt the foolish yet brave young man that stood in front of him, but he would bloody him black and blue, if that was what it took to get Elizabeth back in his arms.

“You are a cut-throat of a pirate. And as the Captain of this ship, it is my duty to capture and detain you, sir.”

“You and how many marines?” Mallory asked, scanning the deck. The man standing before him was ill prepared for a sea battle, and he was bloody lucky that he hadn’t met Antonio instead of him. “I’m afraid my good fellow, that we haven’t yet been introduced. If you don’t already know me, you soon will. I am Captain Rafe Morgan.” He watched with enjoyment as the man’s bravado wavered slightly.

“And obviously you have not heard of me. I am Captain Ronald MacLeod.” Ronald stuck out his chin, and fearlessly challenged Mallory.

“Captain MacLeod, you do not want to find yourself on my bad side.” His teeth were clenched now, and he yearned to gather Elizabeth into his arms.

“I shall not give you, Bess,” Ronald said, causing Mallory to snort.

“Look around you, Captain MacLeod. In your moment of distraction, my men have successfully secured your ship. You, sir, are at a supreme disadvantage.”

Their disagreement was interrupted when a furious scream filled the air. If Mallory wasn’t mistaken, it sounded like it was some sort of a war cry, and the woman behind it was pissed off.

Bellows and grunts of pain filled the air, as two of his men came speeding up the steps leading down to the cabins, as if they had a monster on their trail.

One of his men screamed, “She’s a she witch, she’s mad…”

“What in the blazes…” Mallory said, staring in open-mouthed astonishment at the enraged woman that had come running up the steps.

“Lady Mary?” Mallory asked, dropping his arms to his side, and resting one hand on his cutlass.

“Aye, one and the same,” she said, as a murderous glint entered her sky blue eyes. Mallory watched with a smile, as the maddened glint in her eyes faded to be replaced by stunned disbelief.

“Your Grace?” Mary asked. Her jaw dropped down as her eyes scanned over him. “Good God Almighty, but you’re a bloody pirate!”

“And a damn good one at that,” he answered, smiling brilliantly.

“Your Grace?” Ronald asked incredulously, staring unbelievably between Mallory and Mary.

“Why are you doing this, St. Martin?” Mary asked, falling into a more relaxed stance. “And just in case you’re interested,” she said, her blue eyes flashing onto Ronald. “Your son is down in the cabin with Sully.”

“Thank God,” Ronald said.

“And you, sir, you may tell your men that they deserved everything I gave them. To be sure, I have never seen such absolute disregard for a person’s personal space. Why, I wouldn’t even be up here had they not stormed into my locked cabin.”

“I apologize, Mary,” Mallory said, bowing graciously. “I shall make certain that they are properly punished.”

“Yes, indeed. You may take your men and get the hell off of my ship,” Ronald nearly shouted.

Elizabeth still hung lifelessly in Ronald’s arms completely oblivious to the heated exchange that went on around her.

“I will do just that when you hand over Elizabeth.”

“You may stuff that, Captain Morgan, or St. Martin, or whoever the hell you are.”

“You may call me Captain Morgan when I am on the High Seas, but when you see me in London Society, you’d best call me, Your Grace.” His voice held a pompous edge. He gained great satisfaction out of Captain MacLeod obvious discomfort.

Captain MacLeod’s eyes seared Mallory, and Mallory simply smiled sweetly back at him. “Deliver Elizabeth into my hands right at this moment, or I shall grow tired of this bothersome game.”

“I shall not!” MacLeod said, tightening his hold on Elizabeth.

“You married a very inconvenient fellow, Mary.”

“Ah, but I love him dearly, St. Martin.”

“Well, come on then, hand her over.”

Mallory turned his head at the sound of Mary’s surefooted approaching steps.

He and MacLeod were both surprised by her next announcement.

“Do it, Ronald.” Her voice was steady, and held a commanding tone that even Mallory couldn’t help but admire.

“Mary, have you taken leave of your senses?” Ronald asked exasperated.

“No, I have not lost my wits. At least, not yet. Pray, do as I said, Ronald, dear.”

“You know that your every wish is my command, but I cannot in good conscience, hand my childhood friend over to a bloodthirsty pirate.”

Mallory’s booming laughter echoed around them, as he reacted to MacLeod’s absurd comment. “Bloodthirsty, am I? What do you think of that, eh, Ethan?” he asked, when Ethan appeared seemingly out of thin air.

“I think, Rafe, that this man is filled with shit,” Ethan scoffed, sneering at Ronald.

Ronald stared over at Mary and Mallory could see the man searching her face for some sort of indication that she was in jest. Finding none, MacLeod sighed, and coughed. “Upon my word, I pray that I shall not regret this decision.”

“Have I ever led you astray before, my lord?”

“No, I suppose that you haven’t, my lady,” Ronald expelled a large gust of air. He gently transferred Elizabeth’s body to Mallory’s waiting arms. “If you harm her, and I find out, I shall make you rue the day that you were born.”

“I would expect nothing else,” Mallory whispered, tenderly brushing a strand of hair away from her forehead. He smiled gently at Mary, and then gave Ronald a stern look. “In fact, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll sail with me and my other ships. As soon as we arrive in British waters, we’ll change our flags. But for now, we remain pirates while on the High Seas.”

“And why perchance, do you think that I will accept your invitation?” Ronald regarded Mallory steadily, and Mallory felt a welling of yet more self-fulfilled satisfaction. He darted his gaze toward Mary and watched her narrow her gaze at him.

She knew enough of him to suspect that he was up to something. He could rock the boat some more by dropping the little tidbit concerning Mary’s past relationship with his brother.

She had to be a few years older than dear old Ronald, but he knew that Ronald had suffered enough for one day. He did have a feather in his cap, if the overstuffed prig ever rubbed him the wrong way again.

“Because if you do not accept my invitation, you might very well be sailing right into the clutches of a madman. I assume that you’ve heard tales of Captain Blood?”

A hush fell over the crew, as everyone from the sailor mopping the deck to the ones climbing the rigging stopped in mid-motion.

Ronald coughed indelicately and then cleared his throat. “Of course I have heard of Captain Blood.”

“We shall sail with St. Martin, Ronald,” Mary said. “Thank you for inviting us, Your Grace.”

“Splendid. I’ll just be taking my leave and setting for another course. I shall see you again will I not, Mary?” He stared at Mary and inwardly wished that her hot-headed husband would come to his senses. They wouldn’t stand a chance in hell of winning against Antonio.

“Of course you shall, St. Martin. For I daresay that we shall see each other again once we reach London. After all, as long as we are sailing together, we’d be hard pressed to lose track of each other, wouldn’t we?”

The matter was settled, with just one simple statement from Mary. Ronald seemed slightly uncomfortable at her straightforwardness at dealing with the situation at hand, but he remained grudgingly silent.

“By the by, what is this ship christened? I missed the name in my haste to board you.”

“St. Martin, do not be so daft. I know that you aren’t the dumbest title in the haut ton. I believe that title still belongs to Lord Carldon. You know that this ship has been christened,
The Warrior’s Lady
.”

“Aye, I know,” he said as a mischievous gleam entered his eyes. “And now I’m sorry to say that I know which one of you is the lady, and which of you is the warrior.”

“Devil take you, St. Martin. I shall see you hang one of these days,” MacLeod promised, starting forward, with his fists raised.

Mallory turned as a line was thrown across him to him. “Perhaps, but then I daresay it won’t be this day.” He cradled Elizabeth to him, and made sure that she was quite secure. Then he reached for the rope, and wrapped his gloved hand around it. He was back onboard
The Valiant
in no time at all.

He went down to his cabin straightaway, and tucked her underneath his bedclothes. He settled down beside her, and studied every nuance of her beautiful face. Her ebony waves flowed across the pillow, and made him want to lose himself in their silky embrace.

Her eyes were moving back and forth beneath her eyelids, and her breathing rapidly increased. She had high cheekbones, and a pronounced chin. Her lips were as red as the reddest rose, and felt and looked like sun-kissed rose petals. She was everything he had ever dreamed of, and more.

Now that he had her back in his possession, she would be his forever. She moaned softly in her sleep, and turned her head to the side, away from him. He resisted the urge to nudge her head back to its former position, so that he could drink in her beauty once again.

Her body jerked and lifted off the bed as she shot her one hand through the air. It was balled up in a fist and, by the looks of things, she had just about been ready to punch him.

Frowning, he finally decided that she was in the throes of a most terrible nightmare. He held her hand steady beneath his, and leaned forward on the mattress.

“Elizabeth,” he called out softly, hoping to slowly awaken her, without jolting her senseless.

“Hmmm…” she murmured, though her features were scrunched up, and one single tear had trickled down her cheek. Alarmed at the depth of her despair, he gently nudged her. He leaned down toward her, and was about to kiss her on the forehead when her body lifted clear off of the mattress, and her position changed.

Instead of finding her silky soft cheek, his lips found her rosebud mouth. He pulled away from her, as a thunderous storm began brewing inside of him. His breathing was ragged, and he had to employ all of his self-control to keep himself from kissing her again.

Just as he was pulling away from her, her eyelids fluttered open, and for one brief moment, they softened in recognition. Good sense seemed to pervade her body, for her eyes welled up with stunned amazement.

“Rafe, have I wandered into a dream?”

“I do not believe so,” he whispered, feeling himself becoming bewitched by the damnable sultriness of her voice.

Damn, a man could lose himself in that voice.

“But you are dead! I saw you die with my own eyes.”

“I can assure you, my dear, that I am alive and well.” He smiled reassuringly at her.

“Antonio shot you!”

“Aye, and he failed to kill me. I was saved by this,” he said, holding the cross for her to see. “Do not fret, my dear. I am whole and hearty, and very capable of holding you in my arms. You are mine to hold, forever.”

“This cannot be! I thought you were dead! I’ve never been so scared out of my wits in all of my life. I put myself through all of that misery, only to discover that you are none the worse for wear?”

“I assure you, my dear, the next time someone shoots me, I’ll try my best to die, so as not to disappoint you.”

“Do not use sarcasm on me, Rafe Morgan,” she snapped back. Her colour was returning, as her heated passion ran through her body. Mallory didn’t mind her wrath so much, since it seemed to be doing such utter wonders for her health.

“Did you cry for me, my dear?”

“Certainly not!” Though her voice held a tone that didn’t seem at all genuine. Elizabeth could do a great many things well, but she definitely was not a convincing liar at least not when it came to lying to him.

He reached for her hand, and caught it before she could tear it away from him.

“Your concern touches me. I do believe that we shall have an ideal marriage, after all. You’re already beginning to fall in love with me, and of course you’re already mine to have and to hold even without the vows, you belong to me, Elizabeth…”